


love looks not with the eyes (but with the mind)

by meerida



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Everyone Is Alive, F/M, Fluff, Happy, I have too many OTPs, True Love, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-12 12:37:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13547478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meerida/pseuds/meerida
Summary: A fic with 14 chapters, each aboutlove, written on the days leading up to Valentine's Day, and the day itself.(Also know as: I finally have an excuse to write my favourite pairings.)





	1. “I'm so in love with you” - Arya/Aegon

**Author's Note:**

> These are just pairings I like but (mostly) haven't written fic for. Some of these I do plan on writing actual fics for but for now...here we are!
> 
> Title is from the famous Shakespeare quote!

Arya was happy to be away from the celebrations in the great hall. The feast and ball was to celebrate the birth of Princess Rhaenys' son with Willas Tyrell. Arya minded neither Rhaenys nor Willas and young Baelon seemed to be a good babe - not that Arya much knew what to do with young children - and she was a never one to hide from the loud singing and laughing and dancing that came with feasts and she had even gotten better at making polite conversation with courtiers.

Still, she preferred the stillness and quiet of the gardens, even if she could still hear the music, however faintly. Sansa would no doubt comment on the beauty of the gardens now, with only the light of the moon and glints of bright stars to guide her through the dark.

Arya was no poet though, and continued walking through the large bushes. She remembers when first she came here to the capital, and how she and Bran had explored everywhere including the gardens. Eventually she gets to the benches where you can look over the sea. In the light you can sometimes see Dragonstone from here, Aegon's castle (and hers too, he always said). She preferred that castle to the Red Keep and felt freer on the island than she ever could in a city.

“I had thought you had ridden away,” she hears a voice say. Arya turns around to see her husband. Aegon wears his fanciest clothes; his new black doublet that had red threads and breeches black as the night sky, his hair is combed and curled to utter perfection, his crown sitting just right on top, and he looks the perfect prince, the future king.

“Unfortunately not,” Arya tells him, smiling. “I wouldn't want to fear ruining my gown, I imagine Sansa and Rhaenys both would have things to say about _that_.” They would have a point, really, for the gown was truly wonderful.

Even Arya, who knew and cared little for fashion, knew the fabrics must have cost a fortune; the red and black was threaded in a design similar to Aegon's, though Arya's had silver too. Her tiara wasn't so grand as her husband's and one day she would likely inherit Queen Elia's crown as Aegon would King Rhaegar's (well, perhaps he might, they hadn't spoken too much about which crown he would take) but it was still a tiara, passed down through the Targaryen family.

Aegon laughs, the sound like music to Arya's ears (when had she become a lover of poems and songs? No doubt when she met and fell in love with Aegon). “My sister is quite jealous of your clothes, I think. She tells me often how brilliant you look in red and black, and how she cannot make Tyrell green work for her.”

“She is wonderful in gold, though,” Arya points out in defence of her goodsister, even though she knows her husband japes. Rhaenys has been so kind, managing to help Arya become more used to court without trying to change her in any way. She was sad to see Rhaenys leave for Highgarden, even if her goodsister was very happy with Lord Willas.

“Of course she does,” Aegon agrees, sitting down on the bench. Arya joins him, watching the sea. “I cannot believe she is a mother. It seems only yesterday she was mothering me. But then, she always has treated me as her babe, despite being barely two years my elder.”

“Rhaenys is so mature, you... you aren't,” Arya tells Aegon simply, earning a laugh from him.

He nods, smiling. “You speak the truth, my dear wife. In actuality I have many mothers, I think. My dear mother, of course, comes first,” he says, voice pride and loving like it always is when he speaks of Queen Elia, “and Rhaenys too. Lady Ashara was with my mother during my birth and has been with me ever since. Aunt Ellaria - well, she isn't my aunt by law but... it matters little - she so loves to ruffle my hair, doesn't she? Arianne too, really.”

Arya remembers Ellaria Sand, Aegon's uncle's paramour, mother of his four youngest children and lady to Queen Elia. Ellaria was perhaps the opposite of Arya's mother, yet they had one thing in common: they were brilliant mothers, and wished to mother everyone. Princess Arianne was very different from Arya but was always nice to her, and gave her many books about Queen Nymeria.

“Aren't you so lucky?” Arya teases. She sees the smile on Aegon's face, even in the night.

“Are you ready to come back to the celebrations?” Aegon asks her, almost gently. It is clear to tell from his voice that he too would rather be out here, watching to the sea.

For his sake, Arya nods. “I suppose they might be missing us. I wonder what they would think and say of their future king and queen sitting outside watching the moon in hopes to avoid speaking with them!”

Her husband grins then, turning so Arya can see him. Aegon goes to say something but stops, pressing a kiss to her head. “I'm so in love with you.”

“Where did that come from?” Arya asks, shocked at the suddenness of his words. They have told one another they loved each other before but usually they didn't just throw it out like that.

Not that Arya particularly minds, really.

“Just... I know how little you love these things even after years at court and yet you would come back with me so I needn't face it on my own.” He stands up then, and holds out a hand for her to take. Arya stands beside him, smiling up at him. “Do you know what?”

“What?” Arya asks with a raised brow.

Aegon smiles, taking her hands in his own. “That is what will make you a good queen, one of the best - if not _the_ best - Westeros has been so fortunate to have; you will do anything for those you love and care for but you will always do things for strangers. The people already love you, Princess Arya, and that love will only grow when you sit beside me on the throne.”

“And,” Arya begins, leaning closer to him, “I doubt you shall mess up too badly yourself.”

Aegon laughs again, cupping her cheek with his hand. “That is very kind of you to say.”


	2. “Dance with me” - Arianne/Viserys

Viserys doesn't know whether to be pleased or not at Arianne's choice of dress. He is pleased because, well, he can see her figure quite well (and he does like to see her) but he is not pleased because he cannot stand up now as everyone will see how much he likes her and he will not be embarrassed like that, not in front of everyone at Sunspear.

Just then Trystane decides to come over, with some rock or something. “Viserys, can I show you something?” he asks, sitting down beside him.

“Of course,” Viserys answers in a bored tone. It doesn't stop Trystane though.

“Well, I was out exploring with Ned - Ned Dayne, that is - and we came across this old ruin and we asked the guards what it was and they said it might be one of the castles that Aegon the Conqueror and Visenya burnt down after the Dornish killed Rhaenys.”

Viserys just nods. He takes a large gulp of whatever was in his cup. “This is...uh, interesting.”

“Do you want to hold it?” Trystane asks, completely seriously. If only Dany was here, she would be able to entertain this boy.

“Do I want to hold an old rock that only might have been from a ruin caused by a dragon? No, no thank you,” Viserys says, trying not to roll his eyes.

Again, Trystane isn't deterred. “We are going to the beach tomorrow, Arianne and I and likely all of my cousins. Well, not Rhae and Egg but the Sandsnakes. Not Sarella though, she is in Oldtown still and Obara will likely complain the whole time and I think Loreza is ill...but apart from that, everyone is coming!” Trystane tells him cheerfully.

“The beach?” Viserys asks, pretending to act interested because perhaps the boy will leave.

“You might need to cover up though, Viserys. You're skin is too pale for our sun. Where is Dany?” The boy asks suddenly.

“No doubt enjoying the peace and quiet of the Red Keep,” Viserys says. Really, Dany is with their mother, her and Elia trying to comfort her. His mother was ill and Viserys wondered if this might be what killed her, some illness. Rhaella Targaryen had survived so much, he could believe this would be her end.

He looks to Trystane only to find that - for the first time - the boy looks discouraged.

“What's wrong with you?” Viserys asks, sipping his drink. Then he laughs, “What, do you _love_ her?”

Viserys was only japing but, gods, did the boy just blush? Hadn't Quentyn liked Dany too? What was it with these Martells! “I'm sure Dany likes you well enough, Trystane, but she is happily wed and is expecting a child soon...”

“I know,” Trystane says quietly. Then he is back to himself again. “When are you and Arianne going to have a babe?”

“Seven hells, Trystane, I don't know! I am absolutely not ready for a babe, nor is Arianne!”

His goodbrother smiles then - no, he grins. For perhaps the first time Viserys can see the similarities between Trystane and the Sandsnakes, and Arianne. “Viserys, where do children come from?”

You little - Viserys doesn't get to finish the thought because Arianne herself passes through the crowd of dancers. “Viserys, dance with me!”

“Are you drunk?” Viserys asks with a raised brow. He is only japing but there is a colour to Arianne's cheeks and she seemed...too happy? Also, he didn't dance. She knew that.

“Hopefully,” she answers with a smile. “Trys, be off will you? Edric is looking for you.”

“Is he truly?” the boy asks with a look of disbelief on his face.

Arianne smiles at her brother. “Most likely.” Trystane, finally, leaves then and Arianne holds a hand out to Viserys. “Come on, Vis.”

“I don't dance, Arianne. You know that.”

“Perhaps I have forgotten,” she tells him simply, with a graceful shrug.

“Then I am reminding you,” Viserys says, flashing a smile.

“Why don't I teach you, hmm?”

Viserys shakes his head. “Dany already tried that. It didn't work.”

The princess sighs loudly, dramatically. “The only woman who holds you heart more than myself. Dany.” She is japing, of course, but it is true, Viserys does love his sister - but only as a brother. He wasn't a traditional Targaryen in that respect.

“If I dance with you now must I come to the beach on the morrow?” Viserys asks, trying to make a compromise.

Arianne, of course, doesn't help. “You're trying to get out of that too? Well then, if it will get you to dance with me...yes, you can stay here all alone. Well, Quentyn and little Loreza will be here if you prefer them to your own wife.”

“At least Quentyn doesn't talk all the time,” Viserys argues half-heartedly. “The same, however, cannot be said for Loreza, I don't think.”

“You speak the truth, Vis. Now, come and dance, unless you wish for the world to know you cannot.”

“I care little for what people think of me,” Viserys says nonchalantly, even if they both know it's true.

His wife sighs. “Alright, Vis, I'm quite drunk. If you dance poorly I shan't remember by morning, right?”

“Will you and your brothers and cousins stop talking to me?” Viserys asks, already standing.

Arianne nods, smiling. “Probably.”

 _That will have to do_ , Viserys supposes and takes Arianne's hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like the idea of non!mad Viserys...also the Viserys & Trystane bromance I my favourite thing ever...


	3. “Isn't it amazing” - Willas/Allyria

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one, uh, got away from me...

Willas had been on ships and boats before - of course he had, his uncle was Lord of the Arbor, an island, and his cousins loved to but ships, and his Uncle Baelor enjoyed sailing and Willas had been fostered with him for years - but like everything else, it was different in Dorne.

He could just make out the outline of Starfall in the distance, the beach beside it. This boat is small, more a pleasure boat than anything, and Allyria told him her eldest brother, Arron, had asked his wife to wed him while they were out on it.

Willas and Allyria were already married, thrice really, once in Starfall and another time in Highgarden, but his grandfather Lord Leyton had insisted that as Oldtown was the true heart of the faith they be wed there too, with a smaller ceremony and feast but Willas thought that was his favourite of the three.

But even though they were wed, he understood why Arron choose here to ask Lady Elana to wed him, there was a certain romantic feeling here: watching the sunset on a calm, warm sea with a simple meal of bread and cheese.

It felt as though they were all alone, the only people in all the sea in all the world, but despite the quiet and calm, it also felt so comfortable, just like Willas did in the busy city of Oldtown, or in libraries or meal halls with hundreds of chattering young maesters (Oldtown always would be his more more than ever Highgarden could be, just like he believed Starfall would always be Allyria's).

“Isn't this amazing?” Allyria asks, voice soft as she looks out to the water that goes on, seemingly forever. The sky looks so wonderful too, all pink and orange and purple.

Willas has a sudden thought, a wild one: what if they just sailed off, to new lands where titles such as Lord of Highgarden or Warden of the South or even King of Westeros matter little, if they were cared for at all.

As ever, his wife can apparently read his mind. “It makes you want to leave, doesn't is? To find adventure.” Willas nods, trying to memorise this view he might not ever see again. “Did you know that if we sailed for perhaps three months - mayhaps more depending on the weather - we would reach the Summer Islands? I always wished to go there, and had planned all my travels and adventures with Ned when we were children.”

Willas thinks of the many maps that were in his grandfather's solar and suppose that she was quite right. If they were to go South and then East a little they may well reach the Summer Islands, or Summer Isles as they were sometimes called. “I heard they were very beautiful,” Willas says.

“And warm too, most likely,” Allyria says in an almost wishful voice. She truly has thought of it, hasn't she? “They have the most excellent materials and spices there - though with your plain Northern food, I doubt you could stomach their spices.”

He laughs at that, and smiles even more at the smirk on Allyria's face. “How many times must I tell you, the Reach is not Northern. Not to most anyway, to Dorne perhaps, but not truly.”

“That's fair,” Allyria allows. “Could you imagine it though, just leaving? You wouldn't ever have to worry about meeting with some tiring lord or arranging some feast or tourney.”

“They don't speak Westerosi,” Willas reminds her, “though I will agree that the thought of not being a Tyrell is a nice one sometimes.”

Allyria raises a brow. “Sometimes?”

“Most times,” Willas corrects with a laugh. “Perhaps that's why I'm always at Oldtown?”

His wife shrugs. “I prefer your grandfather's keep to your grandmother's.” Of course, Allyria and Olenna hadn't ever gotten along, in no small part due to their differing beliefs. And Allyria had stopped calling his grandmother Lady Olenna but instead referred to her as 'that old racist witch'.

Lord Leyton however had welcomed Allyria to Oldtown like it was her home and, because of her insistence, has been working on allowing women to join the Faith as Septons might and become maesters.

“Highgarden isn't my grandmother's remember,” Willas tells her with a smile.

She rolls her eyes. “Trying telling her that - and, oh, believe me when I say I have.”

Willas laughs again, then looks to the sea, the sky. “Its getting late, my love, perhaps we should go back?”

“Of course,” she agrees but her eyes stay on the skyline, the setting sun, these sense of adventure.

“Have you truly thought of leaving?” Willas asks, knowing she isn't ready to go back just yet.

Allyria nods, it seems to be a true struggle to take her eyes from the sea to him. “Yes, actually. When I was...ten, yes, Edric went to squire for Lord Beric Dondarrion, his mother and mine were cousins and best of friends in their youth - I was surprised as yourself to hear my mother wasn't originally Dornish - and I felt so lonely. Arthur had joined the Kingsguard when I was little more than a babe, Ashara had gone off and wed her Lord Stark and Arron had not long passed and I was just here, naught here for me, nothing keeping me here.”

“Would you have just left?” Willas asks, finding it easy to imagine Allyria with blue hair walking among Tyroshi or screaming on horseback with the Dothraki or even with her hair blowing in the wind as she sails to a new land like Nymeria once did.

“Perhaps... I was at the docks, actually, ready to go. I had cut my hair and smeared dirt on my face in hopes of looking like a commoner and I even had a little bag full of probably useless things. I'd even found coin enough to take me to, Lys maybe?”

Willas imagines a younger Allyria looking the way she's just described and finds it quite funny. “Then, well, why are you still here?”

“I was on the ship, ready to sail away, but then I remembered a drawing Ned had done for me that I'd forgotten to pack and then I wondered on how he would feel if I was discovered to be missing - though I knew by the time Ned found out at Blackhaven I would be long gone. Then I couldn't help but wonder about Arthur and Ashara and Elana and how terribly sad they would be.”

“So you went back?” Willas asks, genuinely curious.

Allyria nods, “I did. Actually, I think I ran back in fear that the people at Starfall had already found out I was gone. They hadn't, fortunately - no doubt I would be told off, rightfully so. I found the picture Ned made though, it was sitting on my desk, ready to be packed away. Often I wonder, where might I be if I hadn't forgotten that picture?”

There is a moment of silence then, before Willas speaks again. “I should thank Edric then.” At Allyria's questioning look he just smiles. “If not for him you wouldn't be my wife.”

“I'm lucky to have you,” Allyria says suddenly, putting a hand on his cheek.

Willas kisses her head. “And I you.”


	4. “I wish we could stay like this forever” - Robb/Rhaenys

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” Rhaenys tells him, leaning against his shoulder from where she stands beside him. They are on the balcony overlooking the courtyard where their children either play or practise their swordfighting and archery.

“Is that because we're leaving for King's Landing on the morrow?” Robb asks, amused. Not that he wishes to go South either, even if it was his nephew, Prince Maekar's wedding.

His wife laughs softly. “Partly. And because of this one,” she says, putting a hand on her swollen belly, “I do not wish for a child of ours to be born so far from their home.”

“They'll be born in your home,” Robb reminds gently, putting a hand over hers.

“Winterfell is my home now, it has been for years now.” Rhaenys looks down to the yard and watches Osrin and Theon Greyjoy's second son Ashen laugh as young Elian misses his shot. She only barely hears Elian blame his hair falling into his eyes as the reason he missed.

When Osrin and Ashen continue laughing at Elian - with good intentions, of course, they don't mean to be truly cruel - Serena walks over to the boys.

“Osrin, Ashen, need you be so cruel?” Rhaenys hears her eldest daughter say. Serena has just turned three-and-ten and has begun to look more womanly, turning as beautiful as her cousin Princess Elaena but she has still stayed firm on her wish to wed into the North.

Privately, Serena has told Rhaenys that she wishes to one day wed Edren Flint and even wears her hair in the style the ladies of the Mountain Clans are known to; with two braids rather than one.

Osrin merely laughs at his sister, who was two years his younger and much smaller due to Serena having Rhaenys' height, or lack of it - not that Osrin was tall for his age but he definitely was taller than his sister. “We are simply japing, aren't we Elian?”

“Yes,” the eight year old agrees with a sigh.

“Don't worry, Elian, it's not as though Osrin or Ashen can shot a bow straight anyhow,” Serena says with an innocent smile.

That's when Robb finally cuts in. “Serena, stop terrorising your brothers and Ashen.”

The children all look up then, Osrin with a grin and Serena a groan. “Where are Jocelyn and Torrhan?” Rhaenys asks of her twins.

She hears a voice say, “Here, mother!” from underneath her and Rhaenys smiles. Jocelyn was reading, under the shade as it was a sunny day.

“And where might Torrhan be?” Robb asks though they all know the answer.

“In the city,” Osrin tells them in a bored tone. He turns and goes back to Ashen and other boys, to practise their swordplay. Of course Torrhan was in the city - he so loved to just be in the busy peace of Winter City (once Winter Town but it had since grown to the size of a city, however small a city) and felt more at home among the commonfolk than ever he would among highborn.

Robb smiles at the thought of his son playing with the children in the city. He calls over a guard and asks him to at least try and fetch his son.

“We might not find him one day,” Rhaenys says when she sees Robb's smile.

“I doubt he'll run away just yet, he's only ten,” Robb assures her, putting an arm around her. After a moment he asks, “Have you thought any more of your brothers offer?”

“To wed his daughter to Osrin or to send Jocelyn as a lady in waiting?” She asks, not liking either all that much.

“Both.”

Rhaenys shakes her head. “I don't want Jocelyn to be brought up in that snake den, no matter how much I love Aegon. As for Osrin...I only wish he could wed a woman of his choice.”

Her husband gives her a look, like the one he does when she doesn't understand some other ridiculous tradition that is considered normal in the North. “What if he chooses to wed a commoner, hm?”

“But he doesn't,” Rhaenys argues, watching her son laugh with young Ashen. “I believe he already has a maiden in mind - Lanna Greyjoy, perhaps...”

That surprises Robb. “Theon's girl, Ashen's twin? I didn't think she and Osrin were close.”

“That is because you are a man, you don't truly see,” Rhaenys jests.

“Whatever you say, wife,” Robb tells her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. Rhaenys smiles and looks over the courtyard. There really was nowhere else she would rather be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a day late, and a lot shorter than the others but that's because I think I'll actually make a longer fic with this pairing in this AU.


	5. “Will you marry me?” - Ned/Ashara

Ned has been waiting for the right moment to ask Ashara if she would wed him and he supposed standing on top of the Wall wasn't am awful place for it - not that it mattered, he'd had the ring in his pocket for weeks now.

They weren't at the Wall solely for this of course; Brandon hadn't wished for Ben to go to the Wall alone - and when Ned told him about his question for Ashara, Brandon had laughed and practically planned out the wedding there and then.

“She might say no,” Ned had reminded him and Barbrey, Brandon's pregnant wife, had laughed.

Ned knew that Barbrey neither liked nor disliked him - she was indifferent to most people really - but she had put a hand on his shoulder and said, “The girl has stayed in Winterfell with you for moons now, refusing every offer for her hand for years now. Besides, if the girl doesn't say yes perhaps she might like to wed a lord on Skagos?”

He thinks that whatever his goodsister said means she cared about him, and he appreciated it. If that wasn't here intention, well...he tried not to think on it.

Ned looks out to the lands of always winter and wonders what it is like to live on the other side of the Wall. He had never been adventurous, nor ever a dreamer but they say the Wall is magic and who would look to these completely white lands and not simply wonder.

Ashara seems to have the same thought. “I wonder if in some life I was a wildling, Ned? I think I'd be rather good, actually.”

He tries to imagine Ashara with wild hair, wearing a cloak made from a dozen animals, carrying a bow. Ned laughs. “I should like to see that.”

“You could be my king,” she tells him with a smile that could melt the Wall they stand on. “Queen Beyond the Wall - I think I would be quite good at the job, really.”

“You would rebel against the North?” Ned asks with a smile of his own. “Against Brandon?”

Ashara looks to the other side of the Wall, where they can still only see snow. One side of that snow there is a land that summer never has touched, where each tribe are as different as Northerners are from the Dornish, where luxury is not an opinion and every day is a fight for survival.

On the other side though there is a land of towns and cities and harbours, endless summer, lakes and seas that aren't frozen, lands where people can wear naught and still be sweating, where lives are all about gold and treasure and jewels. Two different worlds, Ned thinks, yet only a large block of ice separates them.

Perhaps this is why people say the Wall, just being near, changes you. It makes you think. To look out to the end of the world, is a truly wonderful thing, a thing that so few get to experience.

“I should more fear Barbrey.” There is laughter in Ashara's voice. “No doubt she'd send me to some distant land or have me as her slave - or just take my head off, simple as that.”

“She'd send you to Asshia for not passing her the right spice at dinner, I can't even imagine what she would do if you rebelled against her,” Ned says, causing Ashara to laugh.

She looks so beautiful in that moment, Ned cannot help but think. Ashara is always the most beautiful person in the room but now, looking out an unknown land, her hood falling halfway down her head, white snowflakes in her hair black, her eyes bright.

Ned long ago found there was far more to Ashara than her looks; her wit, her kindness, her laughter, her creativity, her motherly nature, her loyalty, her love of adventure, her passion, her collection of shells that she once collected with Arthur and now brings everywhere.

Her inability to finish telling a jape because she is laughing so much, her laughter which so often turned into an odd snort, her love of the sea, her fear of the dark (for, as she said, it was always light, always bright in Dorne), her companionship with Nan, her way of befriending absolutely everyone, her awfulness at riding... her everything.

Then, it just rushed out of his mouth before Ned knows what is going on. “Ashara, will you marry me?”

He remembers what the in the name of the Old Gods he is doing, tries to gather his head. Ned goes down on a knee and pulls out the ring. Ashara had seen it before, she knew it was his mother's ring that she got from her own mother and so on. It was bronze, with only hints of silver, because his grandmother's people, those of the Mountain Clans, never were ones for flashy jewels.

“Ned,” Ashara says in a tone he can't read. She kneels down beside him, not caring that there will be snow and dirt on her dress. “It's obviously a yes!”

Then she kisses him and it all goes so much better than he ever could have planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I Love Them!!!


End file.
